


Don't You Go

by awkwardnarturtle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Based on an All Time Low Song, Chris and Victor are BFFS, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, MMA AU, Mentions of alcohol, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, One Shot, Yuuri Logic is a thing and it sucks, and phichit is only mentioned but phichit is always important, but im open to any suggestions on how to make it more accurate, forgive me if i messed anything about that up btw im not an mma expert, im still a Kid i can't write about the sex, references to events in the actual show, there's a brief mention of jj, victor also gets his ass kicked, victor drunkenly sings russian pop songs to yuuri, whipped!victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 02:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardnarturtle/pseuds/awkwardnarturtle
Summary: From the moment he’d woken up with Yuuri right there next to him, soft and beautiful and perfect, Victor realized that it had stopped being a one night stand for him. Maybe he never wanted it to be one in the first place.-Based off of the song 'Don't You Go' by All Time Low.





	Don't You Go

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy! :)

Victor checked the time on his watch, looking around impatiently at the crowd. There were so many other things he could’ve been doing rather than sitting outside of the cage among the screaming people and crying infants that parents for some reason thought it was okay to bring. For example, he could’ve been walking his precious poodle. Nevermind that it was ten o’clock at night.

Beside him, Chris sighed. “That is the eleventh time you’ve checked your watch.”

Raising an eyebrow, Victor looked over at him. “You’ve been counting?”

“Not the point,” Chris replied, shaking his head. “This should be an exciting fight,” he started, and Victor scoffed quite rudely. Chris ignored him. “That ass J.J. against some low-profile fighter that I’ve heard is pretty good.”

“Okay,” Victor said, not attempting to sound the least bit interested. No fight was interesting to him anymore, even ones with the possibility of Jean-Jacques Leroy getting his ass kicked. It was just the same thing, over and over again, and Victor was tired of fighting his own fights, much less watching someone else’s.

Chris rolled his eyes. “God, Victor, when are you going to get out of this funk?” Victor shrugged noncommittally, checking his watch for the twelfth time. “It’s rubbing off on me, and it sucks. Oh, here comes the fighters.”

J.J. came into the ring, cocky and self-assured, and Victor groaned audibly as he did his signature hand thing where he made ‘J’s with his thumbs and forefingers. Chris laughed. On the other side of the cage, another fighter that Victor couldn’t remember seeing before stepped in way more subtly than his competitor.

The guy scanned the crowd once, fixing his gloves and readjusting his mouth guard. For a split second, it almost seemed like him and Victor’s eyes met, but then the guy looked away, turning to his coach. Victor frowned, wondering why his heart had let out a rather harsh thump.

As the two competitors names were announced, J.J. did his Finger Thing. The other guy, apparently named Yuuri Katsuki, only raised one hand to the crowd. Just like J.J., he seemed to have a sort of following among the crowd, what with all the girls screaming his name like he was a pop star instead of an MMA fighter.

“Yuuri Katsuki, huh?” Victor asked, and Chris gasped.

“You’re actually interested?” he said, mocking surprise in his signature endearingly annoying way. “Hold on, let me call Yakov, Plisetsky, Mina - oh, God, I have to text the group chat.”

“Shut up,” Victor said, taking away Chris’s phone as he pulled it out of his pocket. “I’ve just never heard of him, that’s all.”

The first round started, and both fighters went at it, though J.J. was mostly on offensive, Katsuki on defense. But Victor didn’t think Katsuki was having a hard time - he countered J.J.’s punches and kicks well, and he stayed on his feet. His face was set and intense, giving away nothing about how he really felt. Katsuki got it one last counter, and then the round was called. Victor’s eyes stayed on him as he went to his coach, bare chest shining and heaving. Chris whistled.

“Oh,” he said, the one syllable laced with teasing. “I know why you’re interested now.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Victor said, watching water and sweat drip off Katsuki’s chin and down his throat.

“Mhm, sure,” Chris said, drawing out the word.

The second round started, and again J.J. was on the offensive, Katsuki taking defense. This time, Katsuki’s eyes flicked between J.J. and the clock, as if he was waiting for something. The round was called, and again Victor’s eyes stayed with him as he drank water and talked with his coach, who seemed to be reprimanding him about something.

“He is really hot, though,” Chris said.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Victor lied.

The third round started, J.J. and Katsuki taking the two roles that they had taken the previous rounds. But something was different this time - Katsuki seemed much more tired. He was taking more hits, and it was obvious that he was starting to hurt.

Victor glanced at the coach. He was furious, it seemed. Looking back to the fight, Victor saw Katsuki’s face was covered in blood, most likely from a nosebleed.

“He’s taking to many hits,” Chris said, shaking his head and glancing over at the clock. “If he was waiting to make a move, it’s too late now.”

Leaning forward, Victor tried to get a glimpse of Katsuki’s face. He was flicking his eyes between J.J. and the clock again, and that’s when it struck Victor that it wasn’t too late for Katsuki because although it looked like he was being pounded to hell and back, he had a plan. Fighters who didn’t have a plan didn’t look away from a fight.

Katsuki took a hit to the jaw, and Victor swore he saw him smile.

Just as Victor was sure Katsuki was going to launch his counter-attack, the ref blew his whistle. Victor blinked, looking around the cage. J.J. and Katsuki separated, and Katsuki whirled around to his coach.

“What just happened?” Victor asked.

“He got corner-stopped, obviously,” Chris said, gesturing to the towel on the floor of the cage that Katsuki’s coach had thrown in. “It was getting ridiculous.”

 _“What?”_ Victor stared at Katsuki, who was arguing furiously with his coach. The ref raised J.J.’s arm as the winner, and the crowd roared as one huge mass, rage and joy merging into one huge deafening monster.

Not long after that, Yuuri Katsuki disappeared from the MMA scene.

 

-

 

The thought had been on Victor’s mind for a while, but he was thinking about retiring from fighting for good. He wasn’t getting any younger, after all, and after so many years of fighting, he was bored. But he had no idea how to tell Yakov or all of his friends that he wanted to quit.

“What should I do, Makkachin?” Victor asked his poodle, who was resting her chin on his lap. She looked up at him sadly.

There was a knock on his door.

“It’s open,” Victor called, not wanting to disturb Makkachin or get up from the couch.

“You should really start locking your door,” Chris said as he walked in, and Victor shrugged. He let himself into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and pantry, and then finally settling down on the couch next to Victor was a carton of Goldfish. “Hello, Makkachin,” Chris greeted, patting her head. Makkachin’s tail thumped against him.

“I don’t get a hello?” Victor asked when it was clear Chris wasn’t going to give him one.

“Of course not,” he replied smartly, digging his hand into the Goldfish carton and stuffing at least ten of the crackers in his mouth. “Anyway, have you checked your Twitter feed lately?”

The last time Victor had checked his Twitter feed, he’d first made his account. That was, like, two years ago. “Um, no.”

“What about YouTube?”

“Not since yesterday.”

“Instagram?”

“Also not since yesterday.”

Chris looked at him strangely, stuffing more Goldfish in his mouth. “Are you okay? The T.V.’s not even on.” Victor looked over at his T.V., which was indeed turned off. “What have you been doing all today?”

“Nothing,” Victor said, which was the truth. He’d gotten up, gotten changed, sat on the couch, and then hadn’t gotten up since. Granted, it had only been a couple hours, but still. “And I’m fine. Now why are you asking about my social medias?”

“Because,” Chris said, pulling out his phone, “I wanted to know if you’d seen this.” He unlocked it, and it opened up to a video on Twitter with a bunch of MMA hashtags as the caption. A Thai fighter named Phichit had posted the video, and even before the video started, Victor recognized the other fighter in the video.

Yuuri Katsuki.

The video finally loaded, and Chris made it full screen so they could see better. It seemed to be a sparring session between Katsuki and Phichit, both seeming to enjoy the fight. Phichit tackled Katsuki, and Katsuki let out a burst of laughter that hurt Victor with how nice it sounded as he struck the mat. In the span of a second, Katsuki had Phichit underneath him, and then they were both on their feet again, Phichit having slipped out from beneath Katsuki.

Victor watched raptly, completely enthralled. Katsuki ducked under a swing from Phichit, and Victor saw his lips twitch up into a smile as he launched a counter-attack that had Phichit on the ground again. But this time Phichit stayed down, and Katsuki raised his fist to the other fighters watching. A brilliant smile was on his face, and he raised his face to the ceiling, as if in prayer, and then the video was over.

“Oh, Christ,” Victor breathed, and Chris cackled.

“This is the first time anyone’s really seen him fight since last year, when he lost that fight against J.J.,” Chris said, exiting out of full screen and scrolling through the replies. “Obviously, he hasn’t lost his touch, and now everyone’s urging him to come back on the scene.”

“Is he?”

Chris looked over at him, smiling teasingly. “You’ve really got the hots for him, don’t you?”

“That is not at all an answer to what I just asked you.”

Rolling his eyes, Chris returned his eyes to the replies of the video, scrolling through them idly. “No one knows. But apparently it’s not just fans that are looking to support him again; companies are rumored to be trying to contact him.”

“From just that video?” Victor asked, somewhat skeptical through his amazement. The video was great, but it was hard to imagine companies lining up to endorse someone based off of one viral video for a training session.

“Nope.” Chris tapped on Phichit’s profile, pulling up the media and showing Victor all of the most recently posted videos, all of which included Katsuki sparring against someone else and winning. “Phichit mass posted all of these videos this morning. They’ve gained a lot of publicity.”

Victor took Chris’s phone, scrolling through the videos and shaking his head, completely awed. When Victor had seen Katsuki fight a year ago, he had been good, Victor thought, but now he seemed to be even better. Or maybe it was just the easy confidence he exuded, the quick smiles in the middle of fights, as if he was having so much fun and there was no place he’d rather be. He was captivating.

There was a blue notification on the bottom of the phone screen, and Victor frowned, showing it to Chris. “What does that mean?”

Chris tapped on the notification, and it led to another tweet from Phichit. “It means Phichit just tweeted something. I’ve got his alerts on.”

“Why?”

“Phichit is, like, a god of social media. He’s always posting the good tea.”

“What does tea have to do with this?”

Chris’s eyes were scanning the tweet, and then his jaw dropped. “Forget the tea, Victor, read the tweet!”

Victor looked back at the phone, frowning and reading over the text. It was an announcement from Phichit. Yuuri Katsuki would be attending the MMA Expo in two weeks’ time.

Just like Chris, Victor’s jaw dropped. “Chris, we have to go to that expo!” Victor shouted, making Makkachin’s ears perk up. He patted her soothingly although his heart was racing, and she nestled her chin back down on his thigh.

“We were going anyway,” Chris replied.

“Oh, yeah.” Victor had forgotten. He’d thought he would’ve already announced his retirement by then, but he guessed he had to hold off on that now given his revived vigor. “Well, now we’re going super hard now.”

Chris squinted at him. “Is that another way to say you’re excited now? Or is that an innuendo of some kind?”

Victor’s heart thumped uncomfortably. “Um. The first one, I think.”

Chris wolf-whistled.

 

-

 

There was a reason Victor had forgotten that he was supposed to go to the expo and it was that he didn’t want to go. Or rather, he hadn’t wanted to go before he found out that Yuuri Katsuki was going to be there.

But now he was one whole entire day into the expo, the second day just starting, and he hadn’t seen Katsuki once. And he was growing tired of all the commemorative pictures and journalists asking for his next move, his next fight, his next everything.

Chris had abandoned him to get their morning coffee, but given that he had been gone for half an hour now, Victor suspected he’d found an amateur fighter to hit on. Victor checked his watch and sighed.

“Victor Nikiforov?” a voice behind him asked, and Victor mentally prepared himself. “Commemorative photo?” he asked before he’d even fully turned around, and then proceeded to burn in self-hatred for a solid four seconds. “Ah,” Victor said, wishing he could disappear or at least be granted a rewind from the higher powers above.

Because Katsuki was standing before him, way prettier up close, and he looked like someone had just vandalized his grandma’s gravestone. He stepped back, his pale cheeks turning an absolutely adorable shade of pink, and walked away.

Never before in Victor’s life had he felt so at a loss as he stood there, watching Katsuki walk away. He could practically feel the shoe in his mouth, all dirt and leather rubbing up against his tongue in the _least_ attractive way possible.

“Wait, was that Yuuri Katsuki just now?” Chris asked, holding two cups of coffee and of course being fashionably and gloriously late to the worst moment in Victor’s life.

“You know how Yakov’s always telling at me to think before I speak?” Victor asked, taking a coffee cup and taking a swig. It was cold.

“Sure. He screams it at you, like, eight times a day.”

“Well, he’s right.” Victor looked down at his coffee cup forlornly, feeling sorry for himself. “I asked Yuuri Katsuki if he wanted a commemorative photo.”

Chris, being the wonderful friend he was, threw back his head and laughed. “Why’d you do that?” he asked once he’d gained control of himself.

“He came up behind me!” Victor said, suddenly feeling defensive. This was no laughing matter. “I asked it before I really saw him.”

“Oh, man,” Chris breathed, wiping a tear from his eye, “this is going in the group chat.”

“It most certainly is not,” Victor said, snatching away Chris’s phone as soon as he took it out of his pocket. “If you tell anyone this, I’m telling everyone about that time you threw up all over that one really hot date you had three weeks ago.”

Chris narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would totally dare,” Victor said seriously. Taking his phone back slowly, Chris didn’t stop glaring at him until the phone was safely in his back pocket. Victor’s entire body relaxed.

“Wait, but what actually happened?” Chris asked, looking in the direction that Katsuki had walked towards. “Did he get angry?”

Victor shook his head, a whole other wave of shame washing over him. “He just walked away.” Groaning, Victor put a hand over his face. “He probably thinks I’m some big asshole that only thinks about himself.”

“Is that not what you are?” Chris asked.

Peeking out from behind his hand, Victor pouted. “You are so mean to me.”

Slapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder, Chris shook his head. “Come on, Victor. Just apologize when you see him later.”

“Leave me alone. I have to wallow in despair,” Victor replied dramatically, and then he realized what Chris had said. _“When_ I see him later?”

“Did you forget about the press conference?” Chris asked, and at the look on Victor’s face, he sighed heavily. “You forgot about the press conference.”

 

-

 

Press conferences were, in fact, on the list of Victor’s least favorite things. Right there among hot weather, books with plot holes, and embarrassing himself in front of the one person he wanted to look cool in front of. When Victor arrived in the conference hall, he tried to make eye contact with Katsuki, but the other fighter kept his eyes trained firmly on the namecard in front him. Victor still felt the shoe in his mouth.

Lovely.

Given that the press conference happened in order of seniority, he was one of the first to go, and he was sort of thankful for it. If he’d had to wait for his questions, he most certainly would’ve been near death with boredom and his answers would’ve reflected that.

He was asked about previous fights, his thoughts on his career, his advice to new fighters, his thoughts on retirement.

(“Are you saying I’m old?” Victor had asked in reply, and the crowd had laughed. “In all seriousness, it’s been on my mind,” he continued, pretending that it wasn’t all he thought about at any given moment in time. “But it feels a little too soon for me to give you a proper answer.” He’d almost wanted to laugh when he said that. He barely restrained himself.)

“Are there any fighters you’ve got your eye on for the next season?” asked a reporter who was closing out Victor’s part of the conference.

Victor thought for a second, considering the fighters he’d seen recently and the ones who’d seemed the most promising. “Yuri Plisetsky, obviously. He’s got a lot of passion and soul, not to mention talent. Not that I’m biased since he’s from the same gym as me or anything.” A few laughs. “And Yuuri Katsuki.” A few murmurs of surprise, intrigue. Victor resisted the urge to glance over at Katsuki’s seat. “I’ve had my eye on him for a while now, to be honest. A lot of people underestimate him, and I think that this next season could really be his, if that’s what he wanted.”

There was a lot of outburst after a statement like that, obviously, but Victor’s time was up. The press conference begrudgingly moved on, and when it got to Katsuki, the first thing to be asked about was Victor’s comments on him. Victor let himself look over the people separating their seats to stare as Katsuki answered.

“Surprising,” he said after a moment, his cheeks flushed. “I’m just a dime a dozen fighter, so it’s surprising, really.”

 _Dime a dozen?_ Victor thought, dumbfounded. Is that what he thought of himself as?

“What about this season? Are you planning to jump back into fighting after your year hiatus?”

There was a slight pause as Katsuki seemed to think about what he wanted to say, and then his eyes slid over to Victor for a fraction of a second before he was smiling back at the crowd. “Definitely. The break was nice and very much needed, but I’m ready to make this next season mine.”

_Oh._

_Oh, oh, oh._

Victor spent the rest of the press conference in a daze.

 

-

 

Chris had abandoned him for the “really hot manager with the soulful green eyes” that he’d met in the morning while Victor was having The Worst Moment of His Life, and so Victor sat alone in the crowd surrounding an octagon. The event was supposed to be an amateur fight between two guys who weren’t big in the scene yet, and Victor had ended up here because it seemed like the least boring place to be.

The crowd was already giving him a headache.

Someone slid into the seat next to him, which had previously been empty. For a moment, the person was silent, but it was a heavy silence that reached Victor somehow. And then the stranger spoke. “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

Victor looked over at the stranger. And promptly did a double-take. “Yuuri Katsuki?” he gasped like some deranged fangirl who couldn’t believe her luck.

Katsuki smiled down at his lap, where his delicate hands were folded neatly, and his pale cheeks flushed just the slightest. “Commemorative photo?” he asked, his amber eyes filled with humor flicking up to Victor almost shyly.

All the shame and mortification from that morning came back to him, and Victor tried to take the shoe out from his mouth. “I am so sorry about that, by the way. I totally didn’t see you before I asked.”

“It’s fine, I guess,” Katsuki said, looking at the octagon as the two fighters entered it. “It’s not like I stuck around for an explanation.”

Victor looked over at the two fighters for a moment, and then looked back at Katsuki only to find the other man already looking at him. He had to take a moment to steady himself, Katsuki’s clear gaze having rendered him speechless for a moment. “For a the record, I do know who you are. I’ve known for a while now.”

One of Katsuki’s eyebrows raised. “How long is a while?”

“A year.”

The crowd roared as something happened, but Victor couldn’t find it within himself to care. His current cares revolved around one very beautiful fighter with searching brown eyes and skin like moonlight.

“What about me?” Victor found himself asking. “Do you know who I am?”

There was a shift in Katsuki’s expression, and he looked to the fighters in the ring, a blush forming on his cheeks and crawling down his neck. Victor wondered how far it went.

“How could I not?” Katsuki supplied as a response.

When it was clear Katsuki did not intend to look back at Victor, he tried to turn his attention to the fight, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the seats were. Keeping his eyes trained on the fight, Victor moved his thigh so that it was pressing against Katsuki’s, and he got a small gasp from Katsuki as a reward. That, and the solid warmth of his thigh.

Victor didn’t think he’d ever been more unfocused on a fight in his life.

After it was over, he and Katsuki just sat there for a moment, and then Katsuki cleared his throat, standing up from the seat. Victor immediately missed his warmth. “I have to, um, meet up with a friend,” he said, bowing awkwardly and moving to leave.

“Wait,” Victor said, pulling at Katsuki’s arm. “What hotel are you staying at?”

“The Doubletree,” Katsuki answered, blinking and blushing, but not uncomfortable it seemed.

“Me too. Meet me at the bar after all the events today? At around eight?”

Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed, and he chewed on his lip. For a moment, Victor was convinced that he’d read all the signs wrong and was about to get rejected. But finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

Victor let go of Katsuki’s arm, and he bowed awkwardly again, nothing less of scuttling away. Sitting back in his seat, Victor wondered what he was going to do until eight.

 

-

 

He ended up leaving the convention early. He told Chris it was because he was bored, but really it was because he needed to prepare.

So he went back to his room at the hotel and showered. And then spent over an hour trying to figure out what on earth he should wear. It had to be nice, but not too nice. That would just freak Katsuki out. He needed casual, but fashionable. Sleek, but relaxed.

If he’d brought all the contents of his closet, he surely would’ve had less of a panic attack, but as it was he was panicking because nothing seemed good enough.

He settled for a black t-shirt, white pants that made his legs look nice, and a blue blazer that brought out the color of his eyes. Checking the watch on his wrist, he saw that it was already nearing eight, and he went through another slight panic.

Arriving at the hotel bar at 8:01, Victor tried to reign himself in as he sat down at one of the stools. He ordered a few drinks for himself and checked his watch every three minutes.

Finally, at 8:23, Yuuri Katsuki stepped into the bar, wearing the most gloriously tight jeans Victor had probably ever seen with a loose white t-shirt and a hoodie. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his dark hair flopped down in front of his eyes. As he walked toward Victor, he pushed it out of his eyes and smiled a little.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he took the stool beside Victor, tentatively calling over the bartender and ordering himself a drink.

“It’s totally fine,” Victor said, trying not to let his eyes wander to Katsuki’s thighs. “I wasn’t waiting too long,” he said, despite the fact that it had felt like he’d been waiting for an eternity. “How were the rest of the events? I didn’t stick around too long, I’m afraid.”

They lapsed into easy conversation, and Victor found out that Katsuki loved poodles, greasy foods, staying up late, and that it was okay to call him by his first name.

(“Really?” Victor had asked, pleased and little buzzed from the liquor. Katsuki had nodded. “Then okay, _Yuuri.”_ He purposely drew out the syllables in the name, and Yuuri had flushed, taking another swig of his drink.)

“It’s a shame this isn’t an actual bar,” Yuuri said after a while, his words adorably slurred.

“Hm, and why is that?” Victor asked, perfectly aware that his words were slurred as well and that his face was impossibly close to Yuuri’s.

“Well, I would’ve liked to dance with you,” Yuuri replied, looking Victor straight in the eyes. Victor wondered if he knew the damage he caused.

“The radios in the rooms have a bluetooth speaker in them,” Victor said rather bravely.

“Are you inviting me up to your room?”

Victor wondered if he should play hard to get. He licked his lips, and Yuuri’s eyes followed the movement. Hard to get had never mattered so little to him than in that moment. “Yes, I absolutely am, Yuuri.”

 

-

 

The elevator ride up to Victor’s room felt excruciatingly long. He checked his watch, and he found that it was nearing midnight. Had they really talked that long?

Finally, the elevator doors opened, and Victor took Yuuri’s hand, leading him to his room. It took him three tries to get the door open, and Yuuri giggled. Victor sort of wanted to bottle the noise and keep it forever.

Once inside, Victor kicked aside the clothes he’d abandoned in his search for the Perfect Outfit earlier and put his hands on Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri looked up at him, cheeks flushed with booze and maybe something else, and Victor felt himself melt as he put his hands on Victor’s shoulders.

“What about the music?” Yuuri asked, and Victor swayed back and forth, pulling Yuuri with him.

“How about I just sing it?” He started belting out some Russian pop song that had been stuck in his head, and Yuuri laughed, throwing his head back and clutching Victor’s shoulders.

“Stop!” he said in between his laughs, “you’re going to wake up the other rooms!”

“You want me to stop?” Victor asked, faking hurt.

“No, no,” Yuuri amended, shaking his head back and forth rapidly. “Quieter would be nice.”

“How much quieter?” Victor leaned in close, making his voice lower and admiring the flush that bloomed on Yuuri’s cheeks. “Here?” he asked, their noses centimeters apart. “Or here?” he whispered, brushing his lips against Yuuri’s ear. He felt Yuuri shiver.

“Th-there’s good,” Yuuri whispered, and so Victor sang softly into Yuuri’s ear, close and quiet.

They swayed back and forth, and Victor was way too aware of how Yuuri smelled like fresh laundry and soap, how his hair was tickling the side of Victor’s face, how his hands had moved to loop around Victor’s neck. Victor stopped singing, pressing a kiss to the spot on Yuuri’s jaw beside his ear, and Yuuri sucked in a breath.

“Victor…”

He let his lips trail down Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri leaned his head back, giving Victor more access. As he sucked on a spot on the junction between Yuuri’s neck and shoulders, Yuuri’s hands moved to clutch at Victor’s hair, pulling him off and bringing him face level once more.

“Was that okay?” Victor asked, breathless and very much in need for that to have been okay because he wanted so much more.

“Definitely,” Yuuri answered, and he pressed his lips to Victor’s.

Victor’s stomach fluttered, and he deepened the kiss as Yuuri’s hands moved to cradle his face like he was something precious and beautiful. His thumbs caressed Victor’s cheekbones, and Victor slid his hands underneath Yuuri’s shirt, rubbing at his sides. Yuuri let out a small sigh, and Victor gently pushed him back so that they toppled onto the bed, Yuuri beneath him.

Yuuri broke the kiss, and Victor chased after his lips, and then kissed his cheeks, his forehead. “Okay still?” he asked, finally pulling away and opening his eyes to look at Yuuri.

For a slight moment, Victor thought Yuuri would say no. But finally he answered. “Just this once, okay?”

“Definitely,” Victor said, not thinking and going back in for another kiss.

 

-

 

Victor woke up the next morning naked underneath his bed sheets and with a splitting headache. For a second, he wondered how he had gotten into bed, and when he rolled over to his side, he found his answer.

Yuuri Katsuki.

He was laying on his stomach, his face turned toward Victor, sleeping soundly. Victor stared, completely awestruck as the events from the night before filtered through his morning brain.

The bar. The dancing. The kissing. And the stuff that was more than that.

Yuuri’s body was partially uncovered, and Victor found himself staring at the muscles of Yuuri’s back, covered with kiss marks and the hints of welts where Victor had gripped him too hard. He reached a hand over and traced one of the marks, heart pounding.

Yuuri stirred, and Victor brushed the hair away from Yuuri’s eyes, leaving his hand there to cradle Yuuri’s face as his eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” Victor greeted, and Yuuri blinked.

“Hi,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep. He sat up, and Victor sat up as well, continuing to stare at him in the morning light. “What time is it?"

“A little after seven,” Victor replied after checking the night stand.

“Oh,” Yuuri said, stumbling out from beneath the covers and then falling to the ground once he’d made it out. “Ow,” he said from the ground.

“What’s the rush?” Victor asked, feeling a little hurt.

“I’m sorry, I, um, was supposed to meet a friend for breakfast, and I really hadn’t meant to stay the night, and” - he stopped, popping his head up from where he was on the ground - “I can’t find my underwear.”

Victor pointed to where all of Yuuri’s clothes had been discarded.

“Ah, thanks,” he said, crawling over to the clothes, and blushing as he stood, using the clothes to shield himself from Victor even though Victor was sure he’d seen every inch of him the night before. “Could I use your bathroom?”

“Of course.” Yuuri retreated into the bathroom, and Victor took the chance to dress himself, still a little groggy and a bit hungover. When Yuuri emerged from the bathroom, Victor was pulling on his shirt.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Yuuri said, bowing awkwardly to Victor and hurrying for the door.

“Wait, Yuuri,” Victor called, rushing forward and catching hold of Yuuri’s arm. “I… The expo lasts for two more days,” he said, not really knowing how to phrase what he wanted to say.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, pulling his wrist away and shaking his head almost sadly. “Goodbye, Victor.” He hesitated in the doorway for a moment, almost like he wanted to stay.

And then he left.

Victor thought he found another Worst Moment of His Life as he stood there, wondering why the hell his heart was having so much trouble accepting a one night stand.

Except from the moment he’d woken up with Yuuri right there next to him, soft and beautiful and perfect, Victor realized that it had stopped being a one night stand for him. Maybe he never wanted it to be one in the first place.

 

-

 

Victor was scheduled to participate in an event later that day, and given that he’d had The Worst Morning Ever, he’d never wanted to do anything less. Chris picked up on his sour mood midway through breakfast as Victor stabbed his continental breakfast with a fork, pouting down into the watery eggs and soggy toast.

“You seem awfully chipper today,” Chris commented sarcastically, and Victor let out a very long and dramatic sigh.

“Well, that’s just because I had The Worst Morning Ever.” Victor stabbed a watery egg. It slipped off his fork.

“Why?” Chris asked like the good friend he is.

“Because I had The Best Night Ever.”

Chris waited for Victor to continue. Victor waited for Chris to ask. Chris sighed. “Alright, man, I’m gonna have to ask you to elaborate on that.”

“So,” Victor started, his lips turning up into a grin and his cheeks flushing despite his misery, “Yuuri and I hooked up last night.”

Chris, who had been taking a sip of his orange juice, choked rather violently, spitting out some of the orange juice into his cup. _“What?_ How?”

“I apologized to him, and then invited him to drink and talk and stuff.” He paused, the smile on his face growing mischievously. “A lot of stuff.”

“Oh, my God,” Chris said, his voice a mixture of awe and horror. “Wait,” he said, putting down the orange juice cup and wiping off his mouth. “Who even bottomed?”

Victor thought about the night before. And then got lost in the memory. “Um,” he started, the smooth porcelain of Yuuri’s skin and the sweet song of Yuuri’s voice still on his mind. “It’s hard to tell.”

“What is that supposed to m-” Chris started, and then stopped, a sour look cross his face. “Nevermind, I have better things to worry about than your sexual escapades.”

“Oh, but I can tell you’re curious,” Victor teased, mostly still thinking about the night before.

Chris pretended to gag. Victor laughed. Shaking his head, Chris grabbed a piece of toast from Victor’s plate. “Okay, but how did your great night full of Sexual Escapades end up with a bad morning?”

Upon being reminded of The Worst Morning Ever, Victor slumped down, resting his cheek on the table and slipping back into the Worst Mood Ever. “He said last night that it’d only be this once.”

“Okay, and?” Victor pouted more. After no less than a decade’s worth of friendship between him and Chris, Chris had witnessed Victor in all the glory of being crowned the One Night Stand King. Prior to recent events, Victor had zero qualms with loving and leaving, not really thinking much about the people he spent nights with after it was over. It was what Chris was used to seeing, and it was what Victor was used to being. And yet here he was, having his heart scrambled and soggy just like the eggs on his plate.

“He was so pretty this morning,” Victor whined, and Chris’s jaw dropped.

“I didn’t want him to go.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Chris said, the words rushing and tumbling to get out of his mouth. _“Yuuri_ was the one who wanted to leave? And _you’re_ hung up on _him?”_

“He was nice,” Victor defended, shrugging his shoulders and sitting up. “And pretty and funny and shy and charming. Not to mention he loves poodles.”

“And you learned this during your _sexual escapades,”_ Chris said sarcastically, putting an emphasis on the words ‘sexual escapades’ that Victor didn’t like.

“I don’t like your tone,” Victor snapped, and Chris rolled his eyes. “And we talked for hours beforehand, for your information.” He paused, his annoyance melting into a crushing fondness as he remembered just sitting at the bar and talking with Yuuri. It was like talking to an old friend - easy, relaxed, natural. “I really thought we connected,” he said, his voice dropping along with his mood.

“Hey, Vic,” Chris said, his tone softening to something sympathetic, “it’s okay. Maybe things aren’t what you thought, and maybe we can get shitfaced tonight to make up for it.” He reached across the table to pat Victor’s shoulder. “There’s still a couple days left of the expo, too. You could always ask him what the deal was.”

For a moment, Victor let himself wallow in his despair. And then he pulled himself back together. “You’re a really good friend, Chris,” Victor said, looking up at Chris to smile at him.

“A really good friend who’s going to kick your mopey ass in a couple hours,” Chris said, giving Victor’s shoulder a pat and then returning his attention to his food.

Victor blinked. “What?”

Chris looked up to him from the toast that he’d taken from Victor’s plate, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what?’ Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

 

-

 

He had indeed forgotten. The fight that he was supposed to take part in later that day was against none other than Christophe Giacometti.

Victor supposed there were worst people to lose miserably to.

Not only was Victor terribly hungover and unfocused, he had noticed Yuuri sitting in the third row midway through the second round and then couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. Thinking about mind blowing sex during a fight was probably the main reason why Victor ended up with his face pressed against the mat, his body bleeding and bruised, admitting his crushing defeat.

On the bright side, now those with lingering eyes wouldn’t be able to tell the hickeys apart from the bruises from Chris’s feet, knees, elbows, and fists.

Chris helped him to his feet, shaking his hand as a sign of goodwill, and Victor managed a smile as he stared at the person who’d just made him eat the mat and then some.

“You suck,” Victor said from behind his mouth guard, still smiling, his body screaming.

“Sorry, man,” Chris said, also smiling, and the two of them turned to the crowd, which was a mass of both cheering and booing, and waved their hands around for a minute.

For a moment, Victor’s eyes caught on Yuuri’s, and the two of them stared at each other. Victor felt the most self conscious he’d probably ever felt in his life. He looked away.

Once Chris and Victor had gotten out of the ring and into the changing room, Victor glared at him accusingly. “You took advantage of my _fragility,_ asshole,” he spat at the same time he spat out his mouth guard.

“You would’ve tapped out earlier if you were really that worse off,” Chris countered, and Victor had to admit he had a point. He’d been in many fights prior to this one where he’d push his body to all limits before even considering to tap out. “You’re just bitter because you lost.”

Victor was about to try and counter, even taking a loud angry breath in preparation, but only ended up sighing. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Aren’t I?” Chris asked, slipping on a shirt. “Anyway, I’ll help you ice it because you know I love you.”

“Ah,” came a voice from the doorway of the locker room. “I’m sorry, was I interrupting?” A handsome man with soft green eyes stood in the doorway, looking between Chris and Victor with a certain nervousness that made Victor raise his eyebrows at Chris.

“Is that the hot manager with the soulful green eyes?” Victor asked Chris, definitely whispering loud enough for the man to hear. The handsome man with the soulful green eyes flushed.

“He is most definitely the hot manager with the soulful green eyes,” Chris said at a normal volume, having zero concept of shame as he cast a flirting gaze at the man. Victor wolf whistled. The man let out a nervous laugh. “Rain check on the ice, Victor?” Chris asked, already sauntering over to the man.

“You owe me lunch,” Victor said as Chris wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulders. “Make good choices,” he added, and Chris scoffed.

“Alright, _Dad,”_ Chris replied, waving his hand as him and he hot manager with the soulful green eyes left the locker room.

As much as Victor enjoyed being left behind in his weak state while his best friend chased after a handsome man with pretty green eyes, he absolutely hated being left behind in his weak state while his best friend chased after a handsome man with pretty green eyes.

For a while, he just sat there, trying to psych himself up to move. Everything sort of hurt.

Eventually, he got his clothes on and managed to put on deodorant, even. He grabbed his bag as he walked out, slinging it over the shoulder that hurt the least.

He really needed to ice his injuries, and he didn’t feel like being at the expo anyway, so he decided to head back to the hotel, content in the idea of ordering room service, watching reruns of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit on the hotel cable, and icing his entire body until he was numb.

So that’s what he did.

Except it was sort of difficult to ice his entire body given that he had two hands and both of them were being used to chow down on some noodles that were burning holes into his tongue. One hand for the plate, the other for his fork. Ice would have to wait.

After finishing his noodles and taking a cold shower, Victor laid back on the bed, the Special Victims Unit episode still playing. He really needed to ice himself, but moving _sucked._ So instead he stared at the ceiling for a while, moping.

There was a knock on the door.

“It should be open,” Victor called. He had propped the door just in case Chris had come back early and felt like being a good friend, and it looked like the time had arrived. “Did things not work out with the hot manager with the soulful green eyes, or did you really miss me that much?” Victor asked as he heard someone enter the room.

“Um.”

That certainly didn’t sound like Chris. Victor sat up, wincing as his muscles pulled taught, and was gifted with the sight of Yuuri Katsuki in his hotel room again. He was wearing his a hoodie that made him look a lot thinner and smaller than Victor knew he was and a pair of thick framed glasses that made his eyes bigger and softened the edges of his face. For a moment, Victor thought he had somehow conjured up this image of Yuuri because, incidentally, he had been thinking about Yuuri while he moped. But then Yuuri shifted uncomfortably, and Victor realized that he had been staring with probably the most dorky expression on his face. “Hi,” Victor said, his throat dry, and he mentally kicked himself for not saying something cooler.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Yuuri said softly, bowing a little bit and looking as if his flight response was about to kick in. Something happened in the SVU episode, and the both of them looked over at the television, their eyes drawn to the loud noise. “Hot manager?” Yuuri asked, and Victor looked over at him. Yuuri kept his eyes fixed on the T.V. screen.

“I thought you were Chris,” Victor responded, and Yuuri frowned.

“Is he…?” He paused, and then looked down at his shoes, blushing. “Nevermind.”

They sat in a heavy, full silence for a few seconds, and Victor wondered why he felt like Yuuri was miles away when he was really only a meter or so from the bed. “Why are you here, Yuuri?” Victor finally asked, desperate to get to the point and to have Yuuri leave so he could distract himself from the Yuuri-induced ache in his chest.

Yuuri finally looked up at him, his amber eyes surveying Victor’s shirtless chest, which exposed the already purpling bruises he’d received from Chris. “I saw the fight.” He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet Victor’s gaze. “It was really bad.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Victor said softly.

“I know,” Yuuri amended quickly, a nervous hand pushing up his glasses. “I just thought I would… check up on you?”

Victor sat there for a second, his chest hurting very badly but not in the I-just-got-my-ass-kicked sort of way. “Okay,” he said slowly, not really sure how to respond without revealing how raw he was from that morning.

Yuuri noticed his delayed response, pushing up his glasses again and swallowing hard. “Have you iced anything?”

“Not yet.”

“I can help,” Yuuri said quickly, backing up towards the door. “I can just get some ice from the machine down the hall. I’ll be right back.” He made a quick escape from the room, much like this morning, but with the promise of coming back, which was not at all like this morning.

Victor didn’t know what to think. He thought his interactions with Yuuri from here until forever would be quick and professional only; Yuuri didn’t exactly strike him as the confrontational type, and Victor wasn’t about to admit how much Yuuri had affected him, especially when he said it was okay if it only happened one time. But here Yuuri was, offering to hold the ice to his wounds. This is what Victor referred to as ‘mixed signals.’

Yuuri returned with the bucket of ice, and he tentatively stepped closer to the bed, only now seeming to become shy of his proposal.

“May I?”

“I certainly won’t stop you,” Victor responded, and Yuuri climbed onto the bed, positioning himself behind Victor.

“There’s a couple bags here, so I can get your back, and you can get whatever else is sore?” He offered Victor a bag of ice, and Victor took it. “Pardon the intrusion,” Yuuri whispered, and he pressed the ice to Victor’s back.

Shivering a little, Victor pressed his own bag to his side where Chris had landed a particularly nasty kick, and the two of them sat in silence. And then Victor realized that they, two (ex) lovers, were watching a show mostly about love-making gone wrong. “Do you want to watch something else?” Victor asked, grabbing the remote and intending to change the channel regardless of what Yuuri would say.

“I like cooking shows,” Yuuri offered, and so Victor changed the channel to the Food Network. “Ah,” Yuuri said from behind him, the word coming like a puff of air on Victor’s bare skin, “Chopped is playing. This show is always so stressful.”

“The contestants are always plating things with, like, ten seconds to spare,” Victor said with an exhalation of breath that could’ve been considered a laugh. “I always yell at them, and Makkachin gets very freaked out because of it.” The air was becoming more breathable. Victor made himself forget that it was Yuuri sitting behind him “Makkachin is my dog, by the way.”

“I remember,” Yuuri said nonchalantly, and Victor remembered. He had gushed about Makkachin last night while they were chatting at the bar. The reminder didn’t seem to bother Yuuri, who continued on talking. “My family used to watch it religiously. They all got very into it - it was a little worrying, actually.” He paused, lifting the ice from Victor’s back. Despite the numbness of the area, Victor could still feel it when Yuuri brushed his fingers on his skin to check the temperature. “I’ll move this somewhere else now, okay?”

“Okay,” Victor answered, remembering to move his as well. He was dying to ask what the deal was between them, but he was actually kind of terrified of asking. So he asked about something else. “Are you going to start fighting again?”

“Hm,” Yuuri hummed, his fingers lightly testing a forming bruise on Victor’s back. Victor shivered at the touch more than anything else. “The situation that made me take a break last year won’t happen again. But I do need a coach before I try and jump back in.”

Victor remembered the fight - how Yuuri’s coach had called the fight even though Victor was sure Yuuri was about to make a move. “You fired your coach?”

“We came to a mutual agreement that I needed a change of pace,” Yuuri said politely, and Victor wondered how someone so soft and sweet could be an MMA fighter and the lover that left in the morning without a care about his partner. “I just want someone who understands me better now.”

“You know,” Victor said before he could stop himself. “I’ve been looking for a change in pace as well. Coaching seems interesting.” He kicked himself internally. It was clear that Yuuri didn’t want to be involved with Victor based on the events of this morning, so Victor really needed to shut his big fat mouth before he choked on a metaphorical shoe again.

“To be honest, you being my coach seems almost like a dream come true,” Yuuri said softly, hesitantly, his free hand ghosting over Victor’s skin, and Victor couldn’t stand it anymore.

He turned around, surprising Yuuri, and looked him in the eye. “What are you doing here, Yuuri? What do you want me to be?”

Yuuri just blinked at him.

“A father figure? A brother? A friend?” Victor took a deep breath. “A boyfriend?”

His face reddening considerably, Yuuri took the ice from Victor’s hands and placed both of their bags back in the bucket. He got up from the bed long enough to grab a shirt from the floor by Victor’s suitcase, handing it over to him as he settled back on the bed. “I’m sorry, but this feels like a weird conversation to have while you’re shirtless.”

Victor took the shirt, but he smiled a little dubiously, nerves making him more susceptible to badly timed smiles. “You’ve seen me absolutely naked, Yuuri.” Victor slipped the shirt over his head, catching the way Yuuri’s cheeks flamed. “I have also seen you absolutely naked,” Victor reminded, and Yuuri’s blush intensified somehow even further, traveling down his neck and under his shirt.

Thanks to last night, Victor knew how far down the blush went.

“That was, um, about that.” He paused, pushing his glasses up and stuttering over what seemed like multiple words at a time.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

Yuuri squinted his eyes at him. “Are you teasing me?”

“Absolutely not,” Victor said in a tone that implied he was teasing him. Yuuri tried to glare him, and then sighed.

“I have this friend, um Phichit?” he started, and Victor nodded, wondering where he was going with this. “And I told him about what happened between us. He said I was really stupid for leaving you behind like I did.” He paused, and then smiled a little shyly. “He said it was a classic case of ‘Yuuri Logic.’”

“Yuuri Logic?” Victor asked, his heart starting to find a new rhythm in his hope.

“It’s basically when I jump to conclusions based on evidence that I mostly make up.” He twisted at the hem of his hoodie. “It happens a lot, so Phichit named it a few years ago.”

“Okay,” Victor said slowly, trying to piece together what Yuuri was trying to say. “So what conclusions did you jump to?”

Yuuri bit his bottom lip, looking down at his lap. “This is embarrassing.”

“Remember, Yuuri. I’ve seen you naked.”

“That totally didn’t help.”

“I think it totally could’ve helped a little if you compared how embarrassed you were last night about-” Yuuri rushed forward, clasping his hands over Victor’s mouth to shut him up. Victor let him.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri said, blushing furiously, “you don’t have to remind me.” He slowly took his hands off of Victor’s mouth. “I just… Talking about this stuff is difficult.”

“If it would help, I’ll stare up at the ceiling,” Victor offered.

“That would actually help.” Victor focused his eyes on the ceiling, waiting for Yuuri to start. “So, I guess to start it off, I’ve sort of been an admirer of yours for a very long time,” Yuuri admitted, and Victor felt his face heat up even though he had countless admirers around the world. “Talking to you was really nice and good, but I didn’t really plan or expect to end up… in bed with you.”

“I didn’t expect that either,” Victor admitted softly, still focusing on the ceiling.

“And, once I realized what was happening, I only wanted it to be a one time thing.”

Victor knew he should let Yuuri talk, but he couldn’t resist. “Then why were you still there with me? The moment I woke up next to you, it stopped being a one night stand for me.” The words crashed into the air with all their enormity. Yuuri sucked in a large breath, and Victor took his eyes off the ceiling to look at him. His face was flushed, and he looked absolutely ruined.

“Ceiling, please,” Yuuri breathed, and Victor looked back at the ceiling. “I stayed because I… didn’t _really_ want it to be a one time thing.”

“But you just said-”

“This is where the Yuuri Logic comes in,” Yuuri interrupted, and Victor shut his mouth. “You have a sort of reputation of a player. You hook up with people and then never hook up with them again. From the rumors, it never seemed to be about love.” Victor nodded a little. It was mostly true - Victor hadn’t really fallen in love with anyone since he was in high school. “I admired you, and when we were talking, I realized I could probably fall in love with you, and then we hooked up, and I thought I was just going to be another one of your hook ups.”

He was sort of hurt by the accusation. “I’m very charming, Yuuri, but I don’t sing to my hook ups. Especially not in Russian,” Victor said, and then laughed a little. “That specific hell is reserved for Chris, my gym mates, and Makkachin.” He paused, swallowing. “And people that I want to be close to.”

“Phichit tried to convince me that you wanted more, but I can’t really see stuff like that so easily.” It was a soft confession, something that sounded as if very little people had heard him say those words out loud.

“Would it help if I said it to you directly?”

“Probably.”

Victor looked away from the ceiling, fixing his gaze on Yuuri and putting everything he felt in his words. “I, Victor Nikiforov, want as much as you, Yuuri Katsuki, will give me. I want to talk to you more, be close to you more, touch you more, kiss you more, have se-”

“I get it!” Yuuri interrupted, his face turning the color of a stop sign, most likely in an effort to make Victor stop. “I get it already, so it’s okay.”

“I feel as though I’ve reminded you many times already, but we have seen each other naked, Yuuri,” Victor said patiently, and Yuuri pushed at his shoulder, glaring at him in a way that was more adorable than intimidating. “And please call me out if I’m pushing my luck, but how would you feel about making this more than a one night stand?” Yuuri blinked at him. “Becoming boyfriends,” Victor clarified, and Yuuri looked as though he might be going through some form of cardiac arrest.

“I-we-uh have to take it slow,” Yuuri stuttered, his cheeks very red and very cute.

“Perfectly fine by me,” Victor said _slowly,_ leaning in _slowly_ to _slowly_ press a kiss to Yuuri’s lips.

“Oh, you’re insufferable,” Yuuri said breathily, momentarily pulling away only to kiss Victor harder. He threw his arms over Victor’s shoulders, his hands finding his hair. Victor brought his own hands up to cradle Yuuri’s face, running his thumbs over his cheekbones because he was something precious and beautiful.

“Who’s ready to get iced?” Chris bellowed as the door to the hotel room slammed open, and Victor pulled away from Yuuri languidly even as Yuuri startled hard enough to bite Victor’s lip in a way that was a little too far on the spectrum of pain to be considered pleasure. Chris stared at them for a moment, his jaw on the floor, and then grinned at the both of them. “Hi, Yuuri.” Chris drawled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hello,” Yuuri said, his voice tinged with no less than the maximum amount of embarrassment possible. He took his hands out of Victor’s hair, and Victor reluctantly stopped cradling his face. “How are you?”

“Given that I just had a makeout session of my own, about as good as you two are right now,” Chris said, and Yuuri blushed. Victor raised his eyebrow.

“You and the hot manager?”

“More like me and the hot boyfriend,” Chris said, and he winked at Yuuri. “Details later so long as you give me your details later,” Chris continued, directing that at Victor. “But for now I’ll leave you two to each other.” He wiggled his eyebrows a little more.

Yuuri groaned, burying his face in his hands, and Victor laughed. “Thank you, Chris.”

“Oh, and by the way,” Chris said as he was starting to walk out. “This is totally going in the group chat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Victor then says to Chris 'yeah because I'm the one that'll be sending it.'  
> At Yuuri's horrified look, Victor kisses him on the cheek. "Sorry, love, but this is all I'm going to be talking about for at least two weeks." He meant to say forever, but he figured that would come off as weird and clingy, which is what Victor was, but he wasn't about to reveal that to Yuuri so early on.
> 
> -
> 
> Victor also learns later that Yuuri had tried to actually escape when getting ice for Victor, was only stopped because Phichit had been waiting outside purely for just in case such a situation arose. At Victor and Yuuri's wedding, Victor got really drunk and started thanking Phichit profusely and crying all over his fancy suit. Phichit didn't mind.
> 
> -
> 
> this was actually like one of the most fun things ive ever written even though it was a bit ~more~ than what i usually write haha,,, but it was in fact very very fun and i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! please forgive any errors and if you've got any fact check suggestions im open to them since im not an mma expert lmao and also please leave some kudos and comments to feed and water my validation crops and thank you so much for reading!!


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